A Just Sun
by floppyearsthebunny
Summary: When a distressed Calormene woman comes to the Pevensies for help, Edmund infiltrates Calormen to rescue her beloved nephew: the thirteenth heir to the Calormen throne. Coauthored by floppyearsthebunny and Tonzura123


**A JUST SUN**

**Chapter One:**** The Petition**

**Coauthored by floppsyearsthebunny and Tonzura123**

**Plot-** When a distressed Calormene woman comes to the Pevensies for help, Edmund infiltrates Calormen to rescue her beloved nephew: the thirteenth heir to the Calormen throne.

**Disclaimer: We ain't claimin' no ownership a' this here literature.**

NARNIA: Year 1005

Up the rich green road to the Cair on the mount, a small dark woman walked. Her feet were covered in dust and sore and her legs quivered beneath her. Her orange robes cut short above swollen ankles, and her grey head was covered in a simple blue shawl. A small canvas sack rattled and clanged with the tiny cooking pot for meals over a meager fire, a meager fire to dance on the shores of the Eastern Sea.

Merab had been walking for days along the sweltering coast. And had she not been a Calormen, the climate might have bothered her.

On the fourth day, she reached the city of Cair Paravel.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

Slowly, quietly she moved alone and head bowed across the lonely expanse of great hall that separated them. Whispers filled the hall; Who was she? Why was she here?

Reaching the dais, she threw herself to the floor and cried out, "My lord kings and queens, if it pleaseth you, give ear to my cry- listen, I beg you, to my petition!"

"Rise, good woman. And tell us your petition."

"O, High King. I am a believer in Aslan highest of Kings, and it is for this very reason my nephew is now a captive. We few who believe Aslan we are ridiculed and reviled by our neighbors.

"It came about that my nephew chose Aslan, and when he came to the age of manhood the riches of his father passed him by. Had he chosen not, he may have gained great power and prestige. Soon after, I determined that I should make my way north, having no kin save my brother's family. My nephew declared to me that I should not go my own way, but that he would accompany me, insisting, 'O, my aunt do not so through away your life.' And so preparations were made in secret for us to travel into Archenland.

"But we should not but reach the border when we were overtaken. He spoke to me as a son, and as if I was his mother, bid me to flee. When they had gone I made my way to the first of the dwellings of that land. A hermit there gave me food and sustenance. I stayed there some days, for I was weak at heart as well as body; yet I could not stay. The hermit spoke to me, telling me the way to Anvard, and there directions to Cair Paravel- mightiest of strongholds.

"I plead with you O great Kings and Queens, if you will believe my tale and have favor on my please hear my cry. Deliver my nephewfor he is like a son to me!"

As she sat there weeping before the thrones, Queen Lucy stood and went to the woman, comforting her. Susan also descended, providing an arm to the side chambers, where more private matters could be discussed.

"Take heart," said the Valiant Queen. "We will not let this matter go unattended."

"Good woman, what is your name?" asked the Magnificent from his throne.

The woman bowed low, her weary forehead brushing the flagstones. "I am Merab, Your Highness, of Calormen. And my nephew is Ravistar."

Calling a blueish Nymph to her, Susan commanded "Take Lady Merab to a room so that she might rest from her journey and see to it that all of her needs are met."

The Nymph curtsied and burst into a swirl of Eucalyptus blooms, floating this way and that, practically floating Merab herself along the hall and out into the corridors of the castle.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

As soon as they entered the side chamber alone, Edmund Pevensie marched to the nearest and plumpest couch, slumping bonelessly into it.

"Lion's Mane!" he groaned.

"La," sighed Peter. He tipped the golden crown off of his head and into a waiting hand, mussing his hair with the other. "What a day..." Plopping down onto the thick carpet, he stretched out on his back and threw and arm over his eyes. "Another slave issue. The _fifth _in two weeks!"

"Sixth," said Lucy. She leaned against the closed door for a moment. "Fifth one was the pirate off the coast of Galma, remember?"

"Ugh," Peter said eloquently, and retreated behind the cover of a stray pillow, pressing hard over his face. Edmund half-heartedly yanked on it, but was too exhausted to worry very much about the High King smothering himself. Lucy slipped to the floor and crawled over to the couch beside Edmund, pulling his loose arm over her shoulders.

The only one left standing was Susan- the only one who still resembled a sovereign with perfect posture and complete decorum. It was dispicable. All of them thought so, even Susan.

"All right," she told them, watching jealously as they all crawled, slumped, and smothered one another. "So you're all still a little woozy from that spell-"

"-I would just like to point out," pointed out Edmund pointedly, pointing, "that what happened was not a _spell_. It was a _bewitchment_, which is a completely different caliber of pain and irritation."

"Hear, hear," came Peter's muffled voice.

"And secondly, _you _are still under said bewitchment, which means _you _are going to feel a much worse dose of 'wooziness'."

Susan frowned. Or, tried to frown. What really happened was a very pleasant, Queenly smile. "I'm frowning and I hate this," she said. What actually came out of her mouth was, "Today is a very nice day for kite-flying," which had nothing to do with anything and only made the others snigger.

"Your laughter is infectious, bless you" she said. The bewitchment was very much starting to get under her skin.

Peter finally tipped the pillow back from his breathing passages. "So what are we going to do about Merab's nephew?"

"Send a squad," Edmund said.

"Send the army," Lucy said.

"Invite him to tea," said Susan. She blessed under her breath.

"Can't, can't, and maybe," Peter yawned. He sat up, ceremonious robes rumpled and creased. He had the red indentation of a decorative pillow button on his forehead. "Ravistar and Merab are Calormen citizens. Technically the Tisroc still has rule over them. For her to be here in Narnia at all is something like treason to them. And as for following Aslan instead of Tash..."

"Oh, the Tisroc!" Lucy growled. "He may have a mighty empire, but he treats his people very poorly."

"You must still be under Susan's bewitchment if you think 'very poorly' is a suitable description," Edmund muttered. He was promptly pinched, but barely blinked. The Wooziness was still upon him. "This would have to be much more covert than a group barreling in and saving the day."

"Well," sighed Peter. "We'll rest tonight and ask Merab some more questions tomorrow morning. There might be a way to get him back."

Edmund cut a sly glance down on his older brother. "Are you thinking of involving Lune?"

"Lune's already involved," Peter said. "So yes I am."

"I love your plans," Susan exclaimed.

"We all love my plans," Peter told her sweetly.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

They spoke again with Merab that next morning. She was a little less eloquent than the night before, because she had traveled for days and had nothing to do but practice what she would say when she arrived. That, and despite all the wonderful things she had heard about the uncanny children that drove a mighty Empress from her throne, she was still accostumed to authority that was modeled off of the Tisroc's laws, and the laws of Tash.

That's why, when they invited her to eat brunch with them in the pavilon by the Northern orchards, she politely declined three times in a row. It was the fourth time (and a little guidance from a smiling Lucy) which encouraged her to understand that they weren't asking out of decorum. Peter pulled out her chair, Edmund poured her a glass of fresh melon juice and Susan (who was suddenly very, very woozy) wanly pushed a plate of vegatables towards her.

It was a rather informative brunch.

"So, Lady Merab, let me see if I understand," Peter said, leaning over his dish of swai and strawberries, "But you're _certain_ you were within Archenland borders when your nephew was taken?"

"It was as we passed into a land of wooded hills that the men set upon us," Merab insisted.

Actually, from the way Merab described the spot of Ravistar's capture, it sounded like she'd been considerably beyond the border into Archenland. Maybe a_ fifth-of-the-whole-country _beyond.

"We should let King Lune know that these men are getting bolder," Lucy said first. "I know traders and slavers skirt the border sometimes, but this is ridiculous.

"Lune's already aware," Edmund told her. "He has a patrol of men that catch most of them."

Peter was frowning. "Lady, remind me again- just who are Ravistar's mother and father?"

"Nobles, High King Peter. Relatives of the Tarkaan. They live in the Azarothen Plateau, in the west tucked into the mountains. They grow crops there for the surrounding cities."

Lucy looked uneasily to her brothers. "Couldn't that be considered an act of war, then? Noblemen sending men into a neighbouring country?"

"And without permission, too," Edmund muttered. "What a mess."

"Please, your Majesties," Merab said pleadingly. "The last thing that I would want is war between our countries. I only seek the safety of my nephew. Please. Please."

"The last thing we ever seek is war," High King Peter told her. "But there are other ways we can fight for your nephew."

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

Edmund knew it wasn't what Peter had meant at breakfast. Peter _had meant_ a trade and polite politics. Peter _had meant_ impressive shows of power to incite the release of the young nobleman. Peter had meant _dignity_. Peter had meant _honor_.

Edmund decided to take a slightly more underhanded approach.

When they were all gathered in the gathering rooms, which adjoined all four of their chambers, he let his plan loose:

"Well... I've decided I'm going to go."

And there was a blessed moment of silence before the predictable onslaught of denials.

"Edmund! You can't think of going!

"I absolute forbid it!"

"Are you out of your mind?"

Edmund waited for them to finish, before gritting his teeth and taking a breath. "Now that you've all kindly expressed your opinions, and we've got that part all over and done with... Lucy, you've got that visit to the Lone Islands coming up. Peter, we all know how prone you are to get into trouble-"

"-I thought that was you," Peter muttered under his breath.

Edmund ignored him. "Besides you _are _the High King and we can't afford for you to take that chance. And _Susan _can't go, either, because she's still getting over the Wooziness."

All of the outrage was of the silent assortment, now.

"So the final choice is me. I have dark hair. I should be able to blend in without too much difficulty.

"Fine job you'd do as a pasty skinned Calormene," Peter pointed out.

"I'll get some coffee grounds from the kitchen and cover my skin with them."

"Then fine job you do as a pasty skinned Calormene if there's a Downpour."

"I'll cover my face then!" Edmund yelled, throwing his hands up. "Aslan, Peter, I can't just let people like this walk away Scot-free!"

"He's right, Peter." Lucy replied, putting a hand on Peter's shoulder. Peter looked down, which was something that Edmund noticed immediately; Edmund always knew what to look for when it came to his older brother. It was the 'Peter hates the idea because of the danger involved but he sees the sense in it' look, specifically. Peter's anxious puppy look Edmund liked to call it, for short.

"Besides, we already told Merab we would look into the matter," Lucy pressed. She squeezed a little on Peter's broad shoulder and they held their breath, waiting as Peter stared at the floor. His fingers touched tip to tip and then were pulled apart like an inflating and collapsing tent. A look of deep thought rested on his face.

At long last he sighed.

"At least take _someone _with you, since the rest of us are trapped here."

"Peter..." Edmund said uncomfortably.

"I know." Peter replied.

"Be safe, Edmund." Susan said tremulously. She wrapped him in a tight hug and kissed the side of his face under her veil of dark hair.

Lucy hugged his middle, her face in his shoulder blades., threatening him to come home in one piece.

Peter watched him from where he sat on the couch. He said nothing.

But Edmund knew what he meant.

**A/N: **

**Floppsyearsthebunny: I am so thrilled and feel so privileged that Tonzura123 offered for me to co-write this story. I really enjoyed creating this story and hope you will enjoy reading it as we had fun creating it.**

**Tonzura123: And I had a blast working with Miss Floppsy. We have two more chapters comin' atcha, so stay tuned. Please feel free to come to either one of us with questions, comments, or concerns.**


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